Trust
by Omega-Genesis
Summary: AU: The Blight happens 3 years early, and M!Mage!Hawke and Fenris meet during Fenris's first year on the run, creating a fragile trust. Eventual Fenris/M!Hawke slash.
1. Chapter 1

Dane sat up, then immediately laid back down as his head promptly throbbed as if he'd been hit over the head-which he remembered dazedly, he had been. At the behest of the captain of the refugee ship, he had been above deck assisting with the ship among the storm. Abruptly, as he'd secured a rope, his mind had screamed at him to duck, and the reason being had been another passenger, attempting to plunge a knife into his upper back.

With him, out of the way however, and the two of them struggling, (stupidly close to the railing, that the next part wasn't a surprise) the knife had severed a rope and sent the small dinghy spinning, directly into them, knocking the two of them overboard before dropping into the water. Dane had beat his assailant to the dinghy by a narrow margin, and thus was more situated when the other had attempted to continue the fight.

At some point, they had both fallen, Dane hitting his head, the other hitting the side, producing a loud crack, and falling overboard. He barely had time to notice the storm weakening, and the barest outline of the ship before blacking out.

"Hey the human is awake."

Through blurred vision, he saw six plus feet of grey-ish skin.

_Oh, Flames, am I on a _Qunari _ship?_

He blinked slowly to clear his vision as a second one leaned in.

_No horns? Or armor. Or shirts. Well at least they're wearing pants…I must have hit my head harder than I thought._

"So, care to explain why you were in that small ship half dead?" the second inquired, peering at him.

"Someone tried to kill me and it went horribly, horribly awry." He probably had a concussion, and he was still being silly. Then, with a sudden realization, sitting up, he inquired, "Can I have my stuff back or will that get me thrown overboard?"

The second Qunari, at the doorframe reached down and tossed his pack at him, which he caught, barely. He spent several moments checking through his meager possessions, relief surging when he found the witch's amulet, even as it left him in a quandary.

Then the Qunari next to his bed poked him in the ribs.

"Huh? I mean, what?" Dane prompted distractedly.

"Well, you see, when we picked you up, the boat had a staff, or spear, in it. Plus you probably need to get somewhere so, the captain was wondering if you were a Sare- mage I mean, and if you were, would you be willing to pay for transport to the next large port town by being a healer for a month." The Qunari blurted.

"…Did you even breathe once during that? Never mind, but, to answer, yes, I can do that. But you captain should know Healing wasn't exactly my specialty. Do you two have names?" He replied.

"The poking one is Namas. I am Reas." the one behind the doorway stated.

"Alright."

The month went by surprisingly quickly, perhaps due to the fact that the Tal-Valshoth, as Dane learned they were called, were rather accident prone. Oh and pirates, but that was a minor detail. What this meant was that he had become more skilled at healing and herbalism, and that he was now in a town slightly inland, with his best chance of getting a ship to Kirkwall being a port town 3 months travel if everything went right, not counting the time he would need to spend getting money for the ship and bribes to get into Kirkwall.

The money part in mind, he had a sudden idea.

He approached a woman selling a basket of herbs, and doing his best to look the "shy traveler" part, asked her where the chantry was. She looked at him with pity, and he was grateful for the worn state of the cloths the Tal-Valshoth had given him, and told him. After he thanked her, she shoved a small bundle of the herbs into his hands before spinning on his heel and walking away. He felt a pang of guilt and headed where she told him.

Sure enough, the Chanter's board was rather covered with assignments, and as such he took the ones he could do today. After all it was still early.

Most of the requests were for potions and poultices, which meant he could easily obtain the flasks with what money he had, then after completing tasks in the town, gather the medicinal herbs from the woods. Then there was a request from an apparently elderly lady who was lonely, but willing to pay a sum for company, followed by a man who needed help finding his wife's cat. That decided, he left for the address of the elderly woman.

There he knocked on the door, and waited, and checked the address when a young and attractive woman answered the door before asking, "You put a note on the Chanter's Board asking for company?"

She smiled, lazily, "Yes, I did. You see my husband is a sailor so I hard get to talk to him. And if I spend time with any men in public, others would assume it was for unpure reasons. But as you're here with the acknowledgement of the Chanter's Board, they will not assume such things, you see?"

"I…Sure?" She had lost him after the bit about her husband being a sailor. But that might have been due to her blouse slipping.

"Would you like to come in?"

"Yes ma'm." The part of Dane's mind screaming to run away went ignored, and if he a looked behind him, he would have seen a man give a sad shake of his head.

When he finally got out of her house three hours later, he was mentally swearing, _Never again, ever. _The only good thing being the sheer amount of coin he'd been given by her. So, exhausted, he spent the rest of the day completing the other tasks he'd selected, turned in the medical supplies in time to receive a handout dinner, then find a nook to sleep in.

He did the same thing for the next five days. The sixth day however, he found a very different notice.

_A group of slavers has been seen pursuing an injured elf, and it is believed they currently have him held up in an abandoned mine. Won't someone capable show mercy and assist one of His children?_

While he was doing this sort of work for coin, the idea of letting anyone be captured by slaver when he could have prevented it sat ill at ease with him. So with a feeling of dread, he took the flyer and headed toward the mine as quickly as he could.

It had been a rather bad week, Fenris decided, pressing the cloth back against his arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. First he had been cornered by the hunters in a rented room, which led to his injury, then there had been a rockslide, blocking the roads out of the last town. This meant traveling through the forest, then, for some reason, the gash on his arm had reopened every day, and, from the redness, he was beginning to wonder if it was infected. And now, now, he was trapped by yet more hunters in a mine shaft, as a storm began to grow outside.

Abruptly he heard a blood curdling scream, and a man staggered into the clearing in front of the mine, an arm raggedly torn off, bone and muscle visible, blood pouring from the wound, before collapsing.

_What in the world-_his thought was cut off as he felt an all too familiar, but unidentifiable sensation, as the markings began to glow, before he brought them back under control. _Magic._

The noise continued, beyond the veil of trees this time, for several long moments, then the noise vanished as suddenly as it'd begun. The mage stepped into the clearing, holding a bundle of cloth against his shoulder, a trail blood staining the leather vest, before stopping several feet from the entrance of the mine.

The dark-haired man cleared his throat, calling, "You okay in there?"

After several long minutes of silence, he spoke again, removing the cloth from his shoulder, "Look, if you're wondering why I'm here, there was a flyer on the Chanter's Board, and I couldn't let someone get caught by slavers if I could help it. And if your hurt, I can help you, but you need to come out of the mine."

He held his position for several long moments, his better judgment telling him to simply kill the mage and run, while his instincts told him to let the man heal him. With a feeling that he would regret it, he stepped out into the clearing. They stared ae one another, measuring one another, and he saw the mage's eyes tracing the lyrium markings, with curiosity, before settling on the gash on his arm.

"If I put my staff on the ground, will you let me treat that? It looks infected."

He eyed the mage, and then nodded. The mage reached back and slowly reached down to place the staff on the ground. The mage walked toward him carefully, stopping in arms reach.

"I need to see your arm to heal it, you know."

Reluctantly, Fenris lifted his arm for the mage to see. He flinched when the mage gripped his wrist, however carefully (for a mage), and the brands flared in reaction to the magic in the man. The man, blinked rapidly during the flare and after to clear his vision before looking at the scabbed over gash and the area around it, before shaking his head slightly.

"This is infected; I'm going to have to reopen it to drain it. And we may want to move into that shaft after all," came the muttered statement, as the mage peered up briefly, "Looks like that storms ready to burst." The mage let go, and retrieved his staff while he waited for Fenris to lead.

"You may want to sit for this-okay, do you have a name? I don't like calling you 'you' all the time."

"Your name first mage." He snapped.

"Dane Hawke." Hawke seemed completely unphased by his tone or acknowledgement of him being a mage.

"…Fenris."

"Well, like I said Fenris, you might want to sit for this. It's going to hurt. A lot." The man-Fereldan if Fenris was reading his accent right.

"And how do I know you aren't attempting to use me for a blood ritual?" He snarled, and the man recoiled as if struck.

"What sort of sick fuck do you take me for? The Tentiver Magisters may do that, but I wouldn't touch that sort of twisted magic!" The human snapped back.

He couldn't suppress the flinch at Hawke's mention of the Magisters, evidently, as the man sighed, rubbing his forehead, with a muttered oath of, "Shit. That's what this is about isn't it? You're from Tevinter. You used to be a slave to one of those monsters."

The man sighed, continued, "Look, if that's the case, you don't really have the best basis for putting your trust in me, but you can let me prove that I'm worth that trust."

He stared a the man a long moments, then, silently, sat on the floor. The mage sat on the side of the injured arm, pulled out a knife, a canteen, a jar, and there was a brief flare of magic, and the man explained, quickly, "To sanitize it, I'm not trying to make the infection worse. And you may want to bite this," He added, handing over a wadded up scarf.

Obeying, with a degree of hesitance, he watched as the man held his arm, avoiding the tattoos this time, held the knife in other, placing the tip an inch above top of the scab. Then his eyes wrenched shut, as the blade sank in, his free hand snapping out, grabbing the man's wrist, marks glowing warningly.

The man's teeth were grit in pain at his hold, the knife half down the wound, blood and yellow pus oozing from the opened portion. He ground out, "I need to reopen the whole thing or the part that's left will re-infect the top."

He released the man's arm, looking away, digging his hand into his knee, as he felt his own flesh tear, his stomach threatening to rebel. Finally the sensation ceased, and he risked a glance at the site, staring at the oozing site as the mage held the canteen, and muttered, "Wish I had supplies to do this without magic…"

He realized what was meant when the mage tilted his hand and began pouring the _hot_ water from the canteen over the wound, dodging the instinctive strike from the elf, and explaining, "This is to help clean it out. Poultices are good but only do so much against infection on their own."

The canteen empty, the man reach over and grabbed the jar, opening it, revealing it to be a poultice. The man applied it carefully, and then reached back, grabbing a roll of bandages, wrapping the injury, before standing and stepping back.

Fenris picked at it curiously, relieved that the constant ache was gone, and confused that a mage would be so willing to help someone, at evidently no benefit to themself. Then a bundle was pressed into his hand. He opened it, finding cheese and dried fruit and meat, and he eyed the man warily.

"I'm not leaving until that storm lets up, and I'm not leaving you alone until you eat that." The man said in a flat tone, meeting his gaze, "There's no reason for me to treat you and not make sure that you have the energy to recover properly."

While his pride was telling him that he was not pathetic enough to take handouts from a mage, his stomach pointedly reminded him his last meal had been three days ago, so he ducked his eyes and ate.

The two of them sat in an awkward silence for several hours, and finally dark set, even as the storm let up. He found himself staying awake until the mage had dozed off and then longer until he was sure that he was asleep, and not faking to lull him into letting his guard down before nodding off himself.

When he woke at dawn, he was alone.

First off, this is AU, so there will be more changes, but a lot of things will stay close or the same to cannon. I'll try to point out any more subtle changes if I think they haven't been picked up on. Please do not complain about pairings, hinted or explicit.


	2. Chapter 2

A month later, three weeks of which being walking to it, Dane found himself in a slightly larger town. This meant more work, mostly consisting of making medicines, hunting down raiders for bounty, and the occasional mundane task such as mending clothes. All this meant more coin, and he was actually doing well enough to stay in the Inn.

He was coming back from turning in his tasks for the day into the Chanter, with dark quickly falling: a fact that made him nervous due to the fact that it seemed that there were an oddly high number of Templars in this particular town. Templars that had the dangerous mixture of experience and clarity afforded by a lack of the lyrium poisoning that made the oldest of them less dangerous, which meant that he had been eyed by several of them for the presence of his staff. He doubted that a fourth one would buy his 'It's a spear, I stab people with it' line. Which meant he probably had another five days, maybe less. Then he heard the fighting.

_Fenris…?_

The elf he had treated stood , greatsword in hand, surrounded by a multitude of armed men. As several rushed the warrior, Dane spied an archer taking aim from atop the nearby building, and from what he could tell, the elf was unaware of the archer.

He had been avoiding using his magic to keep from bringing down the Templars on his head, particuraly with how they were already breathing down his neck, but… could he really protect a life once only to allow it to be lost at a later instance?

_No, I can't,_ he realized, and with that, he invoked a Force spell to send the man staggering off the building. He hurtled to the ground, hitting the earth with a muted thud near Fenris. His spell went unnoticed by none and a greasy looking man made several movements and yelled, directing his men toward him as more came from the alley he was just in.

The man taunted, "That was your last mistake, mage!"

Dane spun his staff into an offensive grip and lashed out, the metal blade biting into one man's neck, puncturing through armor on another. He moved to keep the wall at his back, focusing on limiting the amount of assailants that got close to either Fenris or himself with blasts of kinetic energy and spikes of ice. The Captain of the bunch, whom he had lost track of after the previous taunt appeared beside Fenris - who was engaged with two other hunters - his own broadsword held aloft, ready to strike the elf down.

Hawke focused, despite the weariness he could already feel pulling at the back of his mind, and pushed the man back as hard as he could with a telekinetic burst that sent the man flying back, into the wall. He slid down it with a gurgle.

With their captain dead, the remaining hunters quickly lost morale and steam, an advantage that mage and warrior pressed relentlessly, and they were quickly wrenching their weapons from the last of the now cooling bodies.

Hawke, however, was in a bit of a panic. They were standing in an alley of dead people, some with obvious marks that screamed 'I WAS KILLED BY A MAGE', in a town where he already had Templars watching him like a pack of wolves stalking prey.

"Um, can we go? It's obvious you want to talk, but this isn't really the place…" He suggested, surprised when Fenris nodded, but otherwise too distracted to do more than note it.

They walked through the now dark street for several minutes, and he occasionally thought that he heard someone following him, but passed it off as him simply being paranoid. Then Fenris stopped and spoke, his tone as unreadable as his expression when he turned to face the human. "This is twice now that I owe you my life."

Dane was uncertain how to respond, and was freed from that as the elf continued, "For what of my life I remember, those who use magic have always done things for their own sole benefit. And yet you have assisted me twice now, to no benefit of your own. Why?"

Briefly, he considered telling Fenris the reason that-

_That some good may as well come of this curse that which for I never asked._

Dane opened his mouth to say that, cut off as his vision blurred and he staggered, abruptly unable to sense the Fade, into the other man, dazed even as panic began to bubble into his mind. Fenris gripped him, a stunned expression now on his face, unseen by the human who was suddenly too weak to support himself. It was, however, seen by the armored man at the entrance of the alley way, a naked blade in his hand as he approached.

XXXXX

Fenris shifted the man leaning against him, vaguely surprised by how light the man seemed, as the Templar spoke. "Step away from the maleficar, elf, and we can avoid any unnecessary violence."

He felt Hawke give an instinctive tremble, unable to do anything to defend himself, and his temper flared, surprising him. He would have to figure out the why later though, as the Templar had stopped a foot in front of them, sword raised.

He would swear for the rest of his life that it was instinct that made him strike, phase through the man's armor and into his chest to crush his heart. The man gurgled, staggered back, and collapsed to the ground. Fenris was left with a bloodied hand and a mage too weak to walk, whose staff was digging into his arm, in a dark back alley with a Templar bleeding out near his feet.

Finally the mage had recovered enough to ask, "Fenris?"

"Yes?"

"What…What in the name of Andraste was that?" the mage's voice carried a strange mixture of shock, bewilderment, curiosity and the slightest hint of being disturbed.

"It's… a long story. Can you walk?" he asked.

"I think…"

"Then we should probably get out of town, considering the dead Templar."

"Good thing I have all of my stuff on me then…" the mage - Hawke - chuckled weakly, removing his weight from the elf's shoulder , and swaying slightly before leading the way from the town, pausing occasionally to catch his breath.

They kept moving until they were well out of sight of the town, before stopping to rest.

Fenris watched the mage pick through his bag, possibly taking inventory, before inquiring, "…Where exactly are you heading?"

"Kirkwall. My family will be there by now, and I need to keep up my end of the bargain that got them there." Hawke replied before asking, "What about you?"

"…I…do not know." He admitted weakly. He had just been intent on avoiding Danarius.

Hawke was quiet for a long moment, and then began, "If you really don't know…" he paused for a brief moment, then finished, "If you really don't know, and if I'm not being too presumptuous, you could come with me to Kirkwall. You could probably avoid your former master there for a while, or you could get a ship to Rivain or somewhere."

He thought about that for a moment and stated, "It is as good a plan as any."

"Wait…Really?" The mage blinked at him as if he'd abruptly sprouted wings.

"You have not given me any reason to not trust you." It took surprising effort to admit it to him, however.

"Then…Can I ask what that was you did earlier again?"

"It is the lyrium markings, which were branded into my skin in an excruciatingly painful ritual by Danarius, my former master. The same ritual caused me to forget my life before it, and now he seeks to regain his investment... even if he must rip it from my corpse."

"I see. That would be a shame."

_Did he just…? _Fenris thought before producing a weak laugh.

He watch the man color slightly, and heard him mutter, "Maybe that came out

wrong… Or at least more suggestive than I intended," then louder, more directed, "We should probably keep moving then. At least until we're definitely out the area they'd search."

He nodded in agreement, getting to his feet and following the mage.


	3. Chapter 3

The two of them were doing well as a team, being hired as mercenaries, and with Hawke being seen as the leader; outside of mercenary jobs, they did any other work that headed their way, excluding anything involving animals and small children after what the two agreed to refer to as the incident, leading to a growing sum of coin.

Unfortunately, this success meant that they were starting to get a reputation, and that reputation involved knowledge of them never staying for more than a week in any given locale, and that was on a long stay. This meant that people decided that they were hiding something, which in turn meant that the bloody Templars in every town was more suspicious than the last.

Dane shook his head, trying to clear his head of that; so far they hadn't been approached by any Templars, which was a good thing. He saw their contact for payment for the last hunting trip, and nodded to Fenris before going over to the man.

"Ah, Serrah Hawke, I take it?" the man smiled, tone oily. Just because profits were lucrative didn't mean the people were pleasant.

"Yes." He kept his tone neutral.

"Here is you payment, with a bonus from the client for efficiency." The man held out a pouch, and he reached out for it, taking it as the man continued, "There is another matter if you have the time…"

Hawke looked back and froze when he saw Fenris and a Templar all but snarling at one another and responded, "No thank you."

He was at Fenris's side in an instant, asking, "Is something wrong Ser?"

The Templar stared down at him then stated grudgingly, "I was… investigating a rumor."

"About…?" Dane prompted, playing the fool.

"…The possibility of one of you being an apost-" the man was cut off as woman in Chantry robes stormed over.

"Matteus, I specifically told you not to pursue this!" she chided, stopping near them, scowling at the man.

"But Mother Sandra-" the man began to protest, sounding _remarkably_ like an eight year old, only to be cut off by the Mother.

"None of that! We cannot simply pursue every rumor of someone being a mage or all of Thedas will be at each other's throats! Now, return to the Chantry, and I mean it!"

The man really looked like a child now, shoulders slumped and walking away, and Hawke found himself trying to not burst out laughing at the fact that she had just sent a full grown man, essentially, to his room. The woman gave an exasperated sigh, shaking her head before turning to them, expression softening.

"I apologize. Matteus is an older Templar, and the lyrium poisoning makes him paranoid, so we have to limit how much he goes off alone or he winds up chasing rumors. I hope he's done no damage?"

"A senile Templar. Grand." Fenris snorted derisively, under his breath too low for anyone but Dane to hear.

"Not that I can see. Thank you for stepping in when you did, but are you sure he'll let this be?" the human asked, playing the part of an ordinary person who has come to the attention of a Templar; because as far as she knew, that was precisely what he was.

Mother Sandra sighed, "Unfortunately, no. He tends to pursue these whisperings as if they are the true thing. Thus, it may be best if you leave within the next week."

They nodded, and she left after a brief, "Maker watch over you."

That evening Fenris turned toward Hawke, pulling on breeches the mage, to question him about why they hadn't left, and paused briefly, irritated that the mage had changed so quickly, and by the fact that over the last two months, he had never seen the man change. Then he began mentally scrambling for a reason as to why he was irritated by that, interrupted when Dane asked, "Something wrong?"

"I… am simply wondering why we have not left town, considering the Mother's warning." He replied, looking away.

"We have that job here tomorrow, and skipping out isn't exactly our best option. We'll leave the next day, I promise." The man seemed just as anxious as him, now that he paid closer attention, running his hand through black hair repeatedly.

"…Very well."

Despite his concern, Fenris was relieved when the job (raiding a slaver den to free the slaves and kill the slavers) went without problem, as did departure the next morning to the next town a week away.

XXXXX

Hawke swung his staff up blocking the downswing of the greatsword, metal ringing as his muscles strained to keep the metal rod there, before he had to break position, lunging to the side, pushing Fenris's blade to the side. He used the momentum from the dodge to swing the bladed end toward the other's ribcage, making him off balance when the elf turned away from the blade. He found himself on the forest ground, a tree root digging into something rather uncomfortably, for the third time that afternoon, Fenris's great sword inches off his abdomen.

"Still not good enough, I guess." Dane sighed as Fenris pulled his blade back and stepping back for him to get to his feet.

"Why do you insist on practicing like this?" the elf finally asked, confused as to why a mage would bother practicing fighting with arms, even if it was just with a bladed staff.

The mage hesitated, thinking the answer over, before replying, "I can't always rely on my magic; what if we get in a fight with Templars around again? Or if one find out I'm a mage and blocks off my magic again? Or we could simply be somewhere that there's no room for me to cast spells. There are a lot of reasons."

Fenris blinked, surprised by the amount of forethought, then nodded. He took in the lack of light, and frowned.

Hawke evidently guessed what he was thinking, or was getting better at reading him, as he muttered, "Getting dark already, huh? We should probably set up camp…"

He nodded back at the human, and the two settled into a routine that had been established at some point, but when he could not say. Hawke set up the campsite while he would try to catch some small game to add to the trail rations they made sure to keep stocked up on, a routine that meant that they usually had a timeframe of either silence of mindless chatter as the game cooked.

Thus as the hares he had managed to catch sat over the fire cooking, he found himself watching the man as he patched a hole in one of the long sleeved tunics he had, staff carefully propped up nearby him. Usually, he preferred the quiet to the chatter that was empty of meaning, but for some reason, he wanted the man to talk to him; perhaps because they had traded little talk the last week? He began searching for something to talk about, before settling on something that was relatively 'safe'.

"That staff…" he began, waiting for the man to look up at him, before asking, "Where did you obtain it?"

"It's actually an ancestral weapon from my father's side, 'The Staff of Parlathan'," Dane stated, frowning at the father part, continuing, "Who the ancestor was, I don't know. But there are two major stories that are given as the possibilities of its' origin. The first, more honorable one is that it belonged to the mage Parlathan who fought alongside King Calenhad to unite Fereldan, before disappearing and leaving the staff with his family. The other is that it belonged to a Tevinter Magister who was sent to end a slave rebellion in Kirkwall and disappeared in route."

The smile on his lips had a slight tilt to it as he added, "I prefer thinking it's the first, if you're wondering. Why do you want to know?"

Fenris shrugged then stopped at the look that Dane gave him, admitting, "We haven't spoken much this last week."

"Ah. That would be my fault, I've been distracted lately. I keep thinking that the Templar from three towns back has been following us. Which, now that I've said it, still sounds very paranoid." The black haired man sighed, shaking his head ruefully. Fenris pulled his eyes away from the hair he most certainly was not staring at, leaning back against the tree.

"If he is, I do not know much else that could be done to rid us of him short of killing him." Fenris admitted.

Hawke frowned, then sighed, poking the half-cooked rabbit, obviously unhappy about the idea, before stating, "I don't really want to talk about that. Is there anything else to talk about?"

Fenris found his eyes on the red sash around the other man's waist, and asked, "Does that sash have a personal meaning?"

"Actually, yes." The admittance was sheepish, and the man paused for a moment, then explained, "It was my mother's favor to my father when they were courting. My father gave it to me for some mad reason on his deathbed. I'm actually glad that it wasn't ruined by the salt water when I got knocked overboard."

Fenris blinked at the last part and, in a flat tone asked, "What?"

Dane grinned sheepishly, explaining, "I got knocked overboard during a storm when I was on the ship on the way to Kirkwall with my family when someone attacked me. Then I was rescued by Tal-Valshoth pirates. They dropped me off at the town I met you near the first time."

He stared at the man, wondering how he could so easily speak of something like that as if it was nothing. Then he remembered that this was Hawke, and, for the sake of his sanity, chalked it up to that

XXXX

_The good news, _Hawke thought, twisting against the ropes binding his hands behind his back, wincing at the pain that shot through…well everything, _is that I'm not crazy. The bad news is everything else._

'Everything else' including the three Templars around him, including the one that had accosted them at least ten villages ago, the fact his hand were bound, the fact Fenris wouldn't expect him for at least two hours, and the fact that, through a hole the blindfold, he could see the Templar's eyeing him in what was an unmistakably hungry manner. That aside, he tried to figure out when he had screwed up so badly that he would wind up in this position; surrounded by Templars, unarmed, beaten, hands bound, fighting against the fog from his separation from the Fade, in a back alley.

And for the life of him, he couldn't. He was just supposed to be meeting a contac-

That bitch had betrayed him hadn't she? The woman who was supposed to tell him the specifications for the slaver camp had betrayed them. His blood burned in his veins before he forced it down; anger was of no use in this situation.

One of the Templar's moved towards him, gripping him by the hair. He gritted his teeth, when the man spoke, "Think we should give this one an introduction to the concept of 'obedience'?"

_Shit, _he thought, realizing what they meant, his father having told cautionary tales to he and Bethany, that, now, seemed far too accurate for them to be second hand has his father had claimed they were.

"Do what you want, I don't care as long as the apostate is punished." That was the bastard Matteus.

"Shouldn't we save that until we're out of the city? Since he had the elf following him-" the second Templar began cut off by the first one.

"They obviously split up, or else he'd have come to aid his 'friend'. Do you want to or not?" he snapped.

There was a long pause, then he saw the second nod slowly, the first one gripping his hair, pulling him back by it, pushing a calloused thumb against his mouth until he was forced to open. At the same time the other, more nervous one, began weakly tugging at his robes, eyes locked on the fingers the other Templar had in his mouth. Hawke considered biting, thought against it.

He heard his tunic sleeve begin to tear, and he was pushed back, facing against the wall, hard, more confident hand beginning to yank at his breeches, when a low snarl went through the alley, the fingers in his mouth, and the nervous hands abruptly gone, replaced by a howl of pain cut off by a gurgle. There was the sound of metal clashing,

The silence, combined with his lack of sight meant he had no clue what was going on, which was more unbelievably more frightening than when he had an idea of where they were going. Then he felt hands tugging at the ropes around his wrists. Hands unbound, he nearly scrambled away, but was stopped by a grip on his arm –_Ouch_- followed by a hiss, "Hawke, would you hold still."

He nearly slumped in relief as recognized Fenris's voice, obeying as the elf untied the blindfold, then turning once the other had backed away.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what are you doing here?" Dane asked false lightness in his tone.

"The woman apparently regretted her actions; she came to me and told me- how can you treat this so lightly?" The elf broke off from an explanation into a demand.

He smiled, a bit tiredly, explained, "Some things you have to make light of. But I do understand the weight of what just happened. Most people, not just mages, will abuse power if they are not regulated; that means Templars too, since most of the Mothers and Clerics that are supposed to monitor them are too afraid of them too, and the Knight-Commanders usually don't have the time to control all of them."

He watch the elf's expression, and could see…something that disappeared when Fenris spoke, "We should probably return to the Inn, gather our supplies and leave."

Dane nodded, looking for his staff, and finding it behind several boxes, covered in muck, and frowned, before following Fenris, despite the ache, back to the Inn. He could heal himself later.

XXX

Later came, and found them once again camping out of the town, Fenris watch Hawke like a…hawk, as the other man finally began to pick off his tunic to heal himself- and saw a line of dark red going up his shoulder, from his forearm that he almost mistook for blood, until he saw how precise a line it was, he found himself following it until it disappeared over the other man's shoulder.

"Fenris, what are you staring at- Oh the tattoo?" It sounded like a question, and he nodded, waiting for the explanation. Hawke arched an eyebrow and then began to explain, beginning to heal the bruises, starting with what looked like finger marks-"I got them with my brother Carver, just over six months ago, back when he was preparing to go to Ostagar."

There was a rueful, if brief laugh from the man before he continued, "If you asked him, the whole thing was planned, and for him, it was, me… not so much. I had been drinking, unhappy I was going to be stuck with Bethany and Mother, and he made an offhand suggestion I get one too. Being drunk, I said yes, and woke up with the tattoo, and had to ask Carver how I wound up with it.

"I managed to hide it from Mother for about a week, then she saw it and we had a row about it. The my sister ratted out Carver getting one- a Mabari- and she was even angrier, blaming me for being a bad influence. Then Carver told her that on both counts it was his idea and she didn't know what to say about it. I don't regret it though, which is rare enough."

He looked up, and frowned muttering, "Too much information?"

Mutely, Fenris shook his head, then, after a few minutes, asked, "Where… Where does it go?"

"I can show you someday, but not right now." Was Hawke's smile mischievous there, or was he simply losing his mind?

The mage finished his healing, and yawned, looking all the world like he was going to fall asleep on his feet, so he said he would take the first watch, while the other slept. Despite that, it was easy to tell he would still be tired come morning, the way he twisted and jerked in his sleep; Fenris waking him more than once, arcane energy sparking in the air.


	4. Chapter 4

The black haired girl - young woman, really - sighed, shoulders slumping as her siblings cleared the rickety wooden table in their Uncle's… _house._ Her mother caught sight of this and looked over with a concerned look on her face.

"Bethany, dear, what's wrong?" Leandra probed, worried about what sort of toll working with the mercenaries that her children had been indentured to was having; particularly in addition to everything they had gone through just to get to Kirkwall.

"It's just… I miss Dane. It's not -" she paused, realizing how childish the next part was going to sound before continuing anyway. "It's not fair that we went through all of that - fleeing Lothering and going through all the trouble we did to get on a boat in Gwaren for him to- to…" she trailed off, unable to bring herself to speak of him being dead even 6 months later, despite the fact there was no feasible way for him to be alive.

"Oh, Bethany… I know sweetie, but…" Leandra began to try to comfort her youngest, only to hear Carver snort. She rounded to face him. "Carver! This is your brother we're talking about; you could try to be more respectful, especially with him being…"

"What? Dead?" Carver snorted again, seeming almost... amused? She was horrified, and even more horrified with what he added. "If anyone could survive that, it's him. He probably decided not to come to the city full of Templars. Or that he had no reason to come back to an ungrateful family."

"Carver!" Leandra cried out, anger in her tone, upset with her son for being so insensitive even as Bethany began to cry. "How could you even imply that about your own family?"

"Well, it's true! It's not like he's been on good terms with any of you, - or Father for that matter! - for the last several years! Andraste's ass, Mother, I'm the only one he was able to have an actual conversation with!"

There was a crack, and Carver was gripping the back of his head as the eldest of the Hawke children scowled down at him.

"Watch your tongue, Carver, especially when you're talking to Mother. Stop trying to start fights, you're not a child." Marian ordered.

"Whatever. And who are you to tell me not to start fights? You start them all the time, like it's the only way you can get your way. Oh, wait, it is!" The warrior snarled.

"Please, that's enough! We're all tired. Let's just go to bed, and we'll feel better in the morning-" she found herself ignored as Marian retaliated.

"Oh, and you're so much better? All you do is complain! At least I try to make things better!"

"'Make things better'? You ignore the problems! That's not making things better! And when you do try to actually fix things, you make them worse! Or did you forget that the last argument you tried to break up turned into a full blown brawl?"

Leandra watch with growing distress as two of her remaining - all three of her remaining children began arguing. They were at each other's throats, shouting, crying, snarling. Her thoughts were mangled. _My family is beginning to fall apart. Since when has Carver been so __**angry**__?____Why wasn't Marian simply walking away, why did Carver even think that they didn't get along with Dane, and why hadn't Dane simply stayed below deck like she'd told him to-_

The fighting cut off abruptly when the door swung open and Gamlen stared at the three children that were currently nearing blows. Carver stormed past him; Marian stomped into the family bedroom, slamming the door far too hard; Bethany slid back down to the ground, sobs breaking through.

Gamlen appeared to think of saying something, then, taking a look at the cracks near the door hinge, thought better of it, staggering to his room and closing the door.

XXXXX

Marian cursed, a little louder than she probably should have, rubbing the shoulder she'd just clipped on the low hanging rock. It wasn't the first thing she'd hit it on, either.

Meeran scowled at her, obviously displeased with the Hawke clans recent work- which, while still decent, was nowhere near the level of skill it had been six months or even a week ago. He watched as the girl snapped at her brother, who snarled back, _actually reaching for his sword_. The younger girl stepped back quickly, and it was as Marian began to reach for the daggers on her back that he realized he should break them up.

"Girl! Marian! Save it for the raiders! You too, boy!" He yelled back at them, earning a grudging backing down from both sides, one that plainly said that the issue was not dropped; which meant he had to figure out why so they would stop trying to kill each other.

_Ugh… I am not a nanny. _He thought disgustedly, resigned to having to deal with touchy-feely matters.

At the ambush site he grabbed the younger of the Hawke girls, earning a muffled squeak, -and Andraste's _tits_ why were the good ones such a pain to deal with?- and demanded, "What in the name of the Maker is wrong with you lot lately! Every time I turn my back and turn back, you're either nearly at blows, trading them, or trading insults!"

The girl - Bethany, he thinks - shrinks and mutters something he can't hear.

"Damnit girl, speak up." This is the reason he does not do touchy feely- he is _not_ good at it.

The girl seems somewhat terrified now, babbling, "You see, ser, we had- have- had- another older brother, but he went overboard during a storm when we were on the ship on the way here, and the other day we all got in a row because Carver said he probably wasn't dead and just hadn't come to Kirkwall because he doesn't like us, and Marian and him got into an argument over things being his fault and her fault and can I go?"

He stared a few moments, processing what she said before releasing her and sending her off to her post while trying to figure out what the flame to do about it. Then an arrow landed somewhere to his left and he realized that the ambush had started.

XXXXX

Five days later he had the lot of them in a room at the Hanged Man, tied to chairs as it was the only way he could think of keeping them apart from each other. He stared at the three of them, watching Carver and Marian snarl at one another, straining against the ropes, before reaching out and cracking their heads together.

"Alright," he stated addressing the dazed two and the meek girl, "_That_ is why the three of you are in the current situation - and don't fucking say that you haven't been doing anything - so the three of you are going to shut up and listen to what I have to say. Clear?"

Three nods were his answers, two of them grudging.

"You lot are in a disagreement or something from what the little girl says, and while usually I wouldn't give a spit, it's starting to get in the way. You're arguing when we're trying to move on the sly, you're literally trying to kill one another, and it's starting to give the rest of my men the idea that I'll tolerate in-fighting. Which I don't.

"This is why you're here now. You three are going to leave your spat at home, at the bar, wherever as long as it is not on the job. If you can't you're out of the Red Irons, with no job, and you'll be paying off that contract. Understood?"

There was a pause, and surprisingly, it was the boy who spoke first, muttering, "Yeah, sure."

Marian snapped around to stare at him before grimacing and repeating his words. Bethany nodded, meek as a mouse. He unbound the lot of them, and kicked them out of the room. He had it for the entire night, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

"To be frank," Dane muttered, half to himself, half to his (strangely) more sober companion seated next to him on the bed, his legs crossed, "I don't understand the whole thing about some mages being so mad about being sent to Circle." He paused, then corrected himself, "Okay, I can understand a few things, like the corrupt Templars, and the ones that got along with their family that were sent when they were older. However, I will never understand the Magister thing. I mean, how barking mad do you have to be to throw away morals, emotional ties, and sanity just for power?"

"You already mentioned the lack of sanity." Fenris pointed out, bemused by how well, which is to say not at all, Hawke held his alcohol.

"I did? Huh. …Have I been repeating myself?" The mage asked, a definite slur audible now, even as he stretched out on the bed.

"Only the one time, Hawke."

"Well, that's a relief. Anyway, I could understand if the corruption thing was rampant, but it's not. I mean, I've run into some decent Templars. Flames, one even taught Carver how to wield a blade. Sure, I guess that maybe there should be someone outside the Chantry to monitor the Templars and Mages - speaking of which, I wonder why there isn't? - But that branch would likely wind up corrupt too, which means there'd have to be another branch, and next thing you know, the Circle system looks like the Orlesian court, minus the frilly perfumes and silks. Well, one would hope, anyway." He was rambling now, wasn't he? Maybe he should stop drinking… meh.

There was a light pressure against his neck, and he lazily looked up at the elf, who was misleadingly slim, to a human anyway, without the armor on. Fenris, perhaps curious, kneaded lightly, earning a pleased hum.

"You are rather cat-like," The elf murmured.

He was definitely drunk, Dane decided, thinking that he'd heard amusement.

Hawke hummed, leaning into the half massage,and when the pressure began to trail off, he nudged the other.

"Do you mean what you said about the Circle?" The question was followed by the addition, "Even when that would include you?"

The mage nodded, yawning, "Yes, I mean I would certainly hope it wasn't corrupt, and I would want to go there early, but even if I didn't, it wouldn't matter too much. Not like I'm on the best terms with my family to begin with, and it'd be a stable life. Not many things I'd miss, I don't think. Carver, then there's my mabari Maric, the fresh air… you…"

The elf froze, at the last one, waiting for the man to either say it was a joke or otherwise take back the statement, only to hear a sleepy mutter and for the mage to shift closer to him, and found himself pinned between the wall and Hawke. And reluctant to wake the man from what appeared to be an actually restful sleep.

XXXXX

Fenris watched Dane haggle with a merchant over supplies, loitering close enough by to immediately react if someone decided to try something with the mage. After the last time he let the mage go off on his own, what he had managed to put a stop to, he had immediately changed his level of protectiveness for the mage. Not because he exactly liked the mage-which he did not, though he did respect Hawke- but because such attacks were not only disturbingly similar to what some Magisters did to slaves, but could cause the man to call demons.

And Hawke, as powerful of a mage as he was without a demon behind him, would be downright terrifying as an abomination, a fact he would readily admit. The two men seemed to come to an agreement, and Hawke gathered the items, storing them in the bag. The raven-haired man walked over and Fenris fell in step with him as he passed.

"Hey," Hawke prompted, prompting Fenris to look across at him, which prompted him to continue, "We have extra coin. We could see about getting you another sword. If you want, I mean."

For a moment they looked at each other, then Hawke looked away with a nervous laugh, "I guess that's a 'no'."

"Why not," Fenris stated, earning a stare himself, and he added perhaps a bit snappishly, "If you haven't already changed your mind."

"No, you just didn't seem interested; since you are, there's a weapon shop right there…" he pointed at the store.

After roughly a half hour, Fenris had found a suitable blade and Dane was, once again, haggling, this time with the Dwarven merchant to try and get the price lower. It was slightly amusing, watching the Dwarf and human fling half formed sentences at each other, and, apparently, lose nothing in translation. Then the Dwarf nodded, in a reluctant manner, and coin changed hands, and he took it as his cue to walk over.

"You know…" The dwarf muttered, "I'll give you back one of the sovereigns for the blade you have on you now."

Fenris knew if he didn't want to trade the blade in, Dane wouldn't make him, which was oddly, and almost disturbingly, a comforting thought. But they were traveling light, and he wouldn't have any use for a second blade, which was one of the factors that made him reluctantly hand over the blade, taking his new one, and watching the merchant hand Dane a coin from the corner of his eye.

They spent another hour or so of walking in through the market, and checking a few other stores, and picking up information for a few jobs in the town. As they began to return to the Inn, Fenris moved ahead of the other man and dropped his voice a bit. "Thank you."

Strangely, the man looked confused if nothing else.

XXX

Fenris looked back up from cleaning his sword to find the mage staring yet again at the markings, more exposed then usual due to the fact he was in clothes and not his armor. He scowled at the mage.

Dane seemed to noticed and looked away. "Sorry, I know that you don't like people staring at them."

"Then why do you?" Fenris felt annoyed by this particular habit. The mage was an unusual person, but he was beginning to become irritated by the man's attentiveness to the scars; he also had the strange impulse to find something to cover them.

He shrugged helplessly, trying to explain, "I just do. I don't make the conscious decision to stare; I just wind up doing it." Then, with an expression akin to concern, Hawke inquired, "I've seen you flinch when something touches them; do they hurt that badly?"

The concern appeared to have caught him off-guard, and he hesitated for a moment. "I believe it is not so much that they physically hurt, as it is that I expect the pain. Perhaps if I did not expect pain…" He shrugged.

Hawke bit his lip, looking away; thinking about something, then still looking away, mumbled something.

"Come again?" came the prompt.

"What if you didn't expect the pain?" The mage muttered louder, picking at a stray thread on the bed sheet.

The other arched an eyebrow, half in askance, half in wariness, and asking, "How would that be done?"

"… Well… Somebody that you would trust not to hurt you first off all, which means it won't be happening anytime soon anyway and there's no guarantee it would work; just forget I mentioned it." Dane shook his head in emphasis, as if to dispel the topic in that manner.

Instead, he earned a scowl, and a demand of, "Why would I have to trust the person so much?"

Dane sighed, explaining, "Because, it would require sensory deprivation- sight in this case- and someone um… Well touching them or the skin around them in a not-painful way, and can we not talk about this anymore?"

He was relieved when the other nodded in acceptance, cursing himself for even bringing up the fact- or at least the other half of the conversation. _How stupid was that, I know that he doesn't trust me that much, flames, the amount he does have in me is damn amazing. _He massaged his temples, resisting the urge to groan aloud at his own stupidity, thinking, _I should just drop it, try not to stare at the tattoos-markings-lyrium. Regardless of how they are very attractive, especially on him; especially then, even if it is ridiculously hard. _Realizing what he'd thought, Dane nearly did groan aloud, cutting it off and making a vague statement about going to bed, making sure to face away from the other man.

XXXX

Long period between updates, but lifes been hell lately, and today I had to go to a memorial service for my Great Aunt-in-law who died peacefully on the fifteenth after a years long struggle against Alzheimer's. As glad as I am, and the rest of the family is, that she went peacefully, it still hurts quite a bit. So, despite the fact she probably wouldn't really care for this sort of story, I'm dedicating this chapter to her.

On another note, thanks for all the favs and adding to story alerts, but can ask for a favor from you guys? Review this, please, I'm a very feedback orientated person, and it would be greatly appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

The two of them had spent the next 8 months in an uneventful pattern of work, resupplying and moving on. Finally they found a port town that had a ship willing to take them to Kirkwall, and made the necessary bribes to get into the city.

Then they caught wind of the arrival of a certain magister.

"He's been there for a week or so now, n' there've been people goin in an' out at all hours. Well they come out usually. Some of 'm don't." The man slurred, looking expectant.

Dane sighed, holding the coin out just barely, prompting, "Anything else?"

"Hrm… Oh yeah, I overheard him sending something to a house in the Alienage!"

Dane dropped the coin on the table and stood, exiting the tavern, exhaling in relief once out of the crowd that reeked of bad ale and…other fluids he assumed, before looking to his companion.

"Mostly the same as what every other informant said, but there was a new bit. One of them mentioned overhearing him send something to a house in the Alienage. But with what we hear about him hiring those mercs, I don't think we should go…" He explained, catching the scowl on Fenris's lips.

"We could look for someone to check it out for us. There's the dwarf that helped us get for example, Anso wasn't it? There's bound to be someone who can investigate and not get killed if it is an ambush." He added, attempting to placate the elf.

He apparently succeeded the tension in the other's frame lessening as he nodded. The two of them began to head to their hiding spot for the week, when Fenris inquired about something Dane should have known would be inevitable.

"Why have you not tried to contact your family in the time we have been here? The original reason for this being our destination was so you could reunite with your family, yes?"

Hawke looked away, muttering, "This is more important. I'm not going to leave you just to meet back up with them. Once this is dealt with I'll talk to them."

Fenris arched an eyebrow at that, but nodded.

"Besides, that's going to be a very awkward conversation, and I'm not looking forward to it."

His companion sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slowly, as if in disbelief.

XXXXX

Marian Hawke muttered unhappily as they went to the destination given to them by the elf that had, apparently hired them. She didn't like being tricked, but then again he had said he was fleeing from slavers, and raised as she was, she had a strong dislike for anyone who held others against their will. Briefly she recalled his reaction to Varric addressing her as 'Hawke', the strange piercing look, followed by some strange look.

_Seemed like he was familiar with the name at the least, so how is the question. He obviously hasn't been here long, and definitely not long enough to have heard of our work with the Red Irons._ Her thoughts were cut off when they made the turn to the given location, and she saw a second figure speaking with the elf. Wary she motioned for her siblings and Varric to slow down, moved so that they could overhear the conversation.

"You look amused about something. What happened? Is there something amusing about Anso choice in mercenaries?" a strangely familiar voice asked.

"You could say that. You also may not get to put off seeing your family." Fenris stated, then turned to look at their location.

"What?" the tone was confused, and she really wished she could place-

Abruptly she straightened and stormed over to the second person, and demanded of her twin brother, "Dane, where in the name of Andraste have you been?"

"…Hello Marian, are Carver and Bethany with you too?" Dane ignored her question, and asked his own.

"Hullo, brother." Carver sounded smug.

"That's a yes then." He nodded back to Carver, then turned back to Marian, stating, "I'll answer your questions when mothers around, so if you can help Fenris…" he trailed off at her glare.

"…Fine," Marian muttered finally, then turned to the elf, "What exactly should we expect?"

"No one has left the mansion, but we've heard nothing from within; I would not put it past Danarious to know we're here. He is a Magister of the Tentiver Imperium-"

"Oh, is that all? Nothing to worry about then." Varric cut in.

"Were we in the Imperium, he would be a powerful many with much influence; Here, however, he is like every other man that sweats when death comes for him." The warrior stated it as if it were supposed to be comforting.

"There may be magical traps then." She pointed out.

"They will not keep me from him." The tone was calm, matter of a fact.

"You lot go on ahead, I'll stay out here with Dane." Carver stated, and at the looks added, "What? You were going to tell me to stay out here with him anyways."

"Better than being left out here by myself, I suppose." Dane interjected, cutting off Marian's retort, before trading a look with Fenris, as the larger group entered the Mansion.

XXXXX

"So how have things been while I was gone?" Dane asked his brother.

"About as well as you could expect with our family. Marian's picked fights with people, tried to be a leader with minimal success, Bethany's been all weepy, mom's been… I'll skip that one, and we've been trying to kill one another. As you can see, we've had no success, and in the meantime, we're trying to become partners in a Deep Roads expedition with Varric, the Dwarf, and his brother." Carver's reply was casual, and he waited a few moments before asking his own question, "Okay, I knew you weren't dead, and that you said that you'd answer question when mom was around, but how did you survive?"

With a straight face, Dane answered, "I got really, really lucky, and was picked up by Tal-Valshoth pirates."

"… Only in this family is that a valid answer."

They spent the next several moments on small talk until the door to the mansion opened, Fenris exiting, not followed by the rest of the group, prompting Dane to end the conversation as he moved to the side of his companion for the last year.

"What happened?" was the first thing out of his mouth.

Fenris spat, "Gone. Danarius escaped, and from the looks of things, quite some time ago. The last week has been a _waste_."

Hawke looked away, not quite sure what to say to that, not sure if there was anything to say to that.

"Was anyone hurt?" He went for the safest option, and was genuinely relieved when Fenris shook his head leaning against the wall.

The door to the mansion opened and Marian was followed by the dwarf and Bethany.

"So are you going to follow us so we can get answers or make us wait?" Marian scowled.

"Considering you probably won't leave unless I come with you, I guess I'll be following you." Dane stopped in his answer to look at Fenris, silently asking, 'Are you coming?' He received his answer when the Warrior moved to be behind him as Marian smirked and took the lead.

XXXXX

Leandra stared wordlessly as she took in the sight of her oldest son, alive and well, in front of her. He was tense, as was the elf that stood next to him, and she wondered, briefly how much he had gone through during the last year, even as she doubted the sight in front of her.

"Dane?" she whispered it, hesitant, fearful that acknowledging it would somehow make him vanish, and she'd wake up from a nightmare once more.

"Hello Mother." That was his voice, nervous as she was it seemed, the smile on his face weak at best.

Slowly she stepped over to him and, hugged him, clinging to the son she'd thought gone, holding back tears, for several long moments, before releasing him.

"What… How…" She searched for a place to begin, settling on, "Who is your friend?"

"This is Fenris, mother; Fenris, this is my Mother." Dane introduced.

She saw the Dwarf that had been working with her daughter, shift trying not to be too eager.

"Um. Dane?" Bethany spoke up, perhaps trying to help with the situation.

He looked over at her, arching an eyebrow.

"How did you meet?"

Marian chose to cut in, patience gone from the tone of her voice, demanding, "How did you even survive? Mage or not, there's no logical way that you should have been able to get to land!"

Leandra mentally sighed in exasperation with her daughter, and saw Fenris scowl, shifting at the tone of her voice.

Dane snorted, and in a dry tone stated, "If being saved by Tal-Valshoth pirates because they need a healer, and are willing to repay said healer by dropping him off in a port town is _logical, _logic and I are going to have a long chat."

There was silence, and Leandra stared at Dane as did the rest of her family.

"Why don't you start from the beginning, Hawke? You don't start a story in the middle. Well, not usually." Varric prompted.

"…So we found out that the man was here, and contacted Anso to hire some mercenaries, and well, they turned out to be Marian, Bethany, Carver, and…Varric was it?" Leandra listened to her son finish his tale, thinking it over, intuition nagging in the back of her mind that she had either missed something, or that her son had withheld something; Perhaps both.

"So, what are you going to do?" Marian asked, frowning.

"I'm staying in Kirkwall, that much I know. I can help you with the preparations for this Deep Roads expedition I've heard you're involved in. Beyond that, I need to figure out how to keep our end of the deal with Flemeth." He replied.

"What about living arrangements? We don't really have room here…" Leandra sighed unhappily.

"I'll just stay with Fenris. Considering the fact that no one will be going around investigating an abandoned mansion, it should be fine."

"An abandoned mansion? Dane, I'm not quite sure that I'm comfortable with you…" She sighed, stopping herself, "You'll check in every so often, even when you aren't working with your siblings?"

"Of course."


End file.
